


pent

by casualbird



Series: ukatake wk 2021 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coming Untouched, Couch Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Lap Sex, Light Masochism, M/M, Nipple Play, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, its a good thing track jackets have such high collars my man gets a lot of love bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualbird/pseuds/casualbird
Summary: “You’ve never been touched like this before,” he says, and the tone of it is almost lost with Keishin’s panting.It’s not a question, by now he knows he’s right. He is the master and Keishin is the student, and Keishin will never, ever surpass him and he does not want to.It's been a little while since Ukai and Takeda had time to be alone together. Takeda sorts it out.
Relationships: Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Series: ukatake wk 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092188
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	pent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my very bestest friend danny](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+very+bestest+friend+danny).



> happy birthday takeda you absolute fucking legend

“Look at you,” Ittetsu croons, his voice as gentle as the afghan they’ve forgotten at the other end of the couch, “aren’t you sweet?”

Keishin doesn’t think of himself like that, generally speaking, but Ittetsu’s always right, so there’s no arguing.

No words, even—just a blink of glassy eyes, a shaking sigh between slack lips. A shiver, as Ittetsu’s breath plays at the still-wet skin of his neck.

He can’t see it and he doesn’t care, but it must be dappling all over, the way Ittetsu’s had at him. All wine reds and bloody purples, from collarbone to the space behind his ear, all still tingling with the aftershocks of tongue and teeth.

Ittetsu doesn’t look done, either—he watches him, adoring and appraising from his perch on Keishin’s lap, eyes heavy-lidded, fingertips still curled around the collar of his shirt.

“Not that I think we should make a habit of it,” he says, lightly, “but you’re awfully cute when you’re pent-up like this. What’s it been, a week?”

He knows damn well how long it’s been, but yes, nearly a week since they’ve had each other alone, since circumstance and scheduling and whatever gods are listening have given them the chance for this, to do more than just watch starving from the sideline of the gym.

And still, he’s teasing. Keishin huffs, scrunches his brow a little, mumbles something about how they aren’t about to start getting any younger.

Ittetsu just laughs coyly, because he is a bastard, and still somehow Keishin loves him for it.  
He shows him, with broad hands on heavy hips—hauls him inward until they’re aligned from cheek to thigh, until Ittetsu can feel just how hard he’s breathing.

“Keishin,” he whispers, though there’s a giggle in it. “You really _are_ pent-up.”

“Mmngnph,” Keishin retorts. “M’fine.”

He is not fine. He has not been fine for _months,_ not with the way Ittetsu has him. 

Complete; lock, stock, and barrel.

Ittetsu knows this, and loves it, and loves him. He kisses Keishin’s crinkled brow, his tight hairline, the soft space before his ear.

“I’ll sort you out,” he says, and though it’s little more than a sigh, it could be a siren for how it resounds in him.

Keishin laughs it off, or tries to. It doesn’t really take, not with the wide dark of his eyes, the bitten swell of his lips.

“What about taking care of you?” His voice rasps, thick, and Ittetsu kisses the crown of his head.

“What about it? Would you like to?”

A nod. How could he not? How could he ever even stop thinking about it? Ittetsu smiles, like he knows exactly what a wreck Keishin is, like he’s going to gather up all his pieces.

He is. He has.

Keishin shivers, and can barely attend to the words Ittetsu’s saying for the thought of what could be done to repay him—he can nearly feel the aching in his wrist, his jaw, and he wants _more_ of it, wants it to burn.

“I won’t say no,” Ittetsu assures, “but you can have me later, alright? You look like you need it awfully badly.”

So unused to being a person who needs anything, still Keishin does. He does, and he is going to get it, checked over in triplicate and sealed with a kiss.

There isn’t time to soak in it, though, not with the way Ittetsu’s hands dart from his collar, his hair down to insinuate between them, spreading warm against his breast and down, until he’s humming for permission with fingertips at the hem of his shirt.

He gets it, because there’s nothing else Keishin could possibly do other than want him, and the one hand steadies on the crest of his hip while the other brushes up underneath, cupping at his breast again.

It’s another place where weight has settled, another thing Keishin watches askance in the mirror. But not right now.

Not with the way Ittetsu kneads at him, with the eager trembling of his hands, the delicate graze of one finger-pad across his nipple.

Keishin’s breath chips like a dropped mug, and—and if Ittetsu weren’t here, crooning to him, he wouldn’t have liked to hear something like that out of himself.

As it stands, though, he hasn’t got the presence to pay it any mind. Ittetsu’s fingers are just as clever as the man himself, and they test him, caress him. Press into his skin, just enough to make themselves known.

And then there’s a tremor, a flash of blunted nail and Keishin whines, quivers into it. Can’t decide anymore which he wants—his head in the soft-slick clutch of Ittetsu’s thighs or more of this, more of it now.

Ittetsu gives him more, and a tiny laugh, a rose-blushed little smile.

“Do you like that?”

There’s supposed to be some kind of barb here, but Keishin comes up empty, just flustering, just mumbling his name.

“Full of surprises,” he says, finally, and Ittetsu just titters, tells him that he tries to be. And Keishin huffs, something like laughter, but it falls flat into a wince when Ittetsu does it again, quick-fingered, smiling half-sly.

“You’ve never been touched like this before,” he says, and the tone of it is almost lost with Keishin’s panting.

It’s not a question, by now he knows he’s right. He is the master and Keishin is the student, and Keishin will never, ever surpass him and he does not want to.

He doesn’t say anything, then, just chews his lip, watches Ittetsu through his thick-lashed eyes as he _glows_ at him, that little smile that says all at once _I’ve got you_ and _you’ve seen nothing yet._

Ittetsu kisses him hard, quickly, fingers still teasing away, and he catches a cry in his mouth, tucks it away somewhere safe. And then as soon as he’s come, he goes, shifting back on Keishin’s lap, ducking his head with the same giddy motion that rucks up his shirt.

“Okay?” he asks, and Keishin nods, fingers scrabbling in assent.

And then Ittetsu’s kissing him again, that wide mouth warm against his breastbone, the half-muscle swell of his chest.

He shakes with it, with the graze of teeth. With Ittetsu’s tongue-tip, skirting carefully around the place it’s needed, with the palm that spreads across the other side.

Keishin spasms, yelps as he goes on, as his lips latch half-sharp on his nipple. It’s a raw feeling, after he’s been so thoroughly teased already, and rawer every second.

It aches.

He _loves_ it, listing his head back against the couch, panting like he’s run. Practically howling, at the sudden edge of teeth, and there it is again, this thing in him that wants to be eaten whole, that wants to hurt, that wants to _give over._

It shouldn’t be the way he is, but Ittetsu holds it so carefully, regards it with the same fascination he does all the other bright things in the world. Makes it his.

“Fuck,” breathes Keishin, ragged and half-mad and trembling, “baby please.”

He can feel the smile it earns him, the curve of Ittetsu’s cheek against wet skin.

“Too much?”

 _Never,_ he thinks, but swallows it—just shakes his head, mumbling his answer when he puts together that Ittetsu can’t see him.

“Not enough?”

_More than._

Still, somehow, it isn’t.

He feels the long slow blink against his skin, the sweep of thick lashes, the little kiss that accompanies it.

“Do you want to come, then, Keishin?”

It’s news to Keishin when his teeth leave his lip, when he manages a breathless _no, not yet._

Ittetsu takes it in his stride, though, reaching up blind to stroke his jaw, ruffle his hair.

“Sweet boy,” he calls him, so muffled it’s almost lost in his skin, but it isn’t and Keishin thrills with it.

And then Ittetsu is on him again, suckling, scoring with his nails, and Keishin thrills in general. His fingers tighten even more in Ittetsu’s shirt, palms forming harder to his hips, knees shaking where he holds him up. It is so much, to feel all of this, to hold the grounding weight of him, to breathe between it all.

It hurts, and he can’t stop wanting it, can’t stop shivering. Still, no matter what, Ittetsu’s hands clutch at his shoulders, hold him fast.

He comes without asking, without even being touched, when Ittetsu draws back a second, blows a chill across slick skin. When he smiles at him, with swollen lips and the blithest, sweetest eyes, and it’s all Keishin can handle. He jolts, shudders, curls into the safety of Ittetsu’s neck.

Rides it out, tremoring. Ittetsu holds him, murmurs _there_ and _good boy_ and _yes,_ carrying him away.

Holds him, still, until the shaking stops. Until there’s breath in him again, and his fingers unfurl, and he slackens back against the couch.

“Your turn,” sighs Keishin, because he’s exhausted, well-fucked and wrung out and because it doesn’t matter. Because all he wants are Ittetsu’s fingers in his hair, ankles crossed over his back, voice going all to pieces in his ear.

Wants to give his all, over and over again.

**Author's Note:**

> hehehehehe
> 
> i wrote this like a month ago in preparation for ukatake week, and spent the time since going back and forth on whether or not i liked it. i have finally come to the conclusion that it fucks and i am proud of it, and so i relinquish it to you. 
> 
> do tell me what you thought of it, and come hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bird_scribbles)if you like, i'm always looking for new hq pals.
> 
> thanks for reading and much love!
> 
> -mye


End file.
